As many of you know, my dad passed away this last fall. Let me say this- he was a good Dad.... he was the Dad that God wanted me
to have.I don't want this in anyway to be a bad mark on him. The people who knew him and loved him... had reason to love him. He had kind heart and loved his family and friends as much as he knew how. Much of the TRUTH in my life is hard for me to swallow. - to put down into words. It makes them real. It
feels to raw, too close to the surface, too "in the present". This is where I am at- dealing with my
addiction, I have to face reality... the realness, rawness, untouchable
parts of my life. Today.
Let me begin- I had started a letter to my Dad a year or so ago. It was a letter that, in the course of going through a group counseling session- the group had said to me- "You NEED to do this!" I hesitantly agreed. I knew it would be good for me, even if I never gave it to him, even if I never let him read it, or even if I burned it.... a good cleansing fire. It was a good idea. After I received my direction- I got started.
It began with a flow of emotions as I sat at the keyboard. I apologized for not being the "perfect thin, successful daughter" he wanted, I told him how much it meant to me to know- he had my back- even if it meant I had to crawl on my hands and knees to beg for his approval. I told him how he had messed up my own view of God. How, I thought God was only there when I had really messed up. I listed the reasons why I had made the decisions I had...the ones that I thought he disapproved of- most of which was when I needed him to just say- "It's gonna be okay" That's when he was silent. The times were written down that he left me and our family. He had abused me with his words and had beat me up by just looking at me with a face full of disgust. I reminded him of the times he wanted to have a talk with me and I would just stand there looking at him and cry.... because, I thought I was honoring him by not just screaming back at him. I wrote him of the confusion I had about conditional and unconditional love. I talked to him about his methods of teaching me about money, how it had only made me mad. I had filled in my teen years following a pastor that reminded me of my father. He had the same emotional baggage that my dad did-I filled in some bad issues with the same levels of badness- it was like my father/pastor was still disheartened with me. I still didn't rank to where they wanted me to be. In both there eyes, I was a pretty fat girl. I talked about hanging out with all the gay men in my life and how that culture showed me acceptance- no matter what SIZE I wore. It was love I craved. It wasn't all the love I needed. I told him how much love I had found in my husband Dan. How healing and cleansing his love had been to my heart. How God had blessed me with him. How Dan had filled in places in my heart that he could not. How I had learned of God's love for us. How I had prayed for him. But, in all of it- I told my Dad how much I loved him. And now how much I missed him in my life.
I never really finished the letter. When my Dad died it did too.
I can totally see where women with abusive/addicted husbands would not leave them. They feel value in the fact that the spouse even shows them the time of day. That possible time of love after the FIGHT. It's the whole I love you- don't beat me syndrome. My Dad was a person in my life who I knew LOVED me... but, he was also a master of manipulation. He knew what buttons to push...where his words would hurt the worst.
Realizing that my Father did the best job he knew how. Following his father's example, and his father following his example.... back through time. Let's just say if you follow that train back... you can see where the fall of man came into play. Sinful creatures of habit are we... I can't, and don't blame my father for my addiction to food. I think he helped. But, ultimately it is my decision. The choices I make are - the choices that I make.
As this year begins a new...it's a fresh start for all of us. It's amazing that we get to start new every morning.
Thank you for reading.... hug your Dad if he is still on this earth. He may not be perfect... but, he is YOUR Dad.
Let me begin- I had started a letter to my Dad a year or so ago. It was a letter that, in the course of going through a group counseling session- the group had said to me- "You NEED to do this!" I hesitantly agreed. I knew it would be good for me, even if I never gave it to him, even if I never let him read it, or even if I burned it.... a good cleansing fire. It was a good idea. After I received my direction- I got started.
It began with a flow of emotions as I sat at the keyboard. I apologized for not being the "perfect thin, successful daughter" he wanted, I told him how much it meant to me to know- he had my back- even if it meant I had to crawl on my hands and knees to beg for his approval. I told him how he had messed up my own view of God. How, I thought God was only there when I had really messed up. I listed the reasons why I had made the decisions I had...the ones that I thought he disapproved of- most of which was when I needed him to just say- "It's gonna be okay" That's when he was silent. The times were written down that he left me and our family. He had abused me with his words and had beat me up by just looking at me with a face full of disgust. I reminded him of the times he wanted to have a talk with me and I would just stand there looking at him and cry.... because, I thought I was honoring him by not just screaming back at him. I wrote him of the confusion I had about conditional and unconditional love. I talked to him about his methods of teaching me about money, how it had only made me mad. I had filled in my teen years following a pastor that reminded me of my father. He had the same emotional baggage that my dad did-I filled in some bad issues with the same levels of badness- it was like my father/pastor was still disheartened with me. I still didn't rank to where they wanted me to be. In both there eyes, I was a pretty fat girl. I talked about hanging out with all the gay men in my life and how that culture showed me acceptance- no matter what SIZE I wore. It was love I craved. It wasn't all the love I needed. I told him how much love I had found in my husband Dan. How healing and cleansing his love had been to my heart. How God had blessed me with him. How Dan had filled in places in my heart that he could not. How I had learned of God's love for us. How I had prayed for him. But, in all of it- I told my Dad how much I loved him. And now how much I missed him in my life.
I never really finished the letter. When my Dad died it did too.
I can totally see where women with abusive/addicted husbands would not leave them. They feel value in the fact that the spouse even shows them the time of day. That possible time of love after the FIGHT. It's the whole I love you- don't beat me syndrome. My Dad was a person in my life who I knew LOVED me... but, he was also a master of manipulation. He knew what buttons to push...where his words would hurt the worst.
Realizing that my Father did the best job he knew how. Following his father's example, and his father following his example.... back through time. Let's just say if you follow that train back... you can see where the fall of man came into play. Sinful creatures of habit are we... I can't, and don't blame my father for my addiction to food. I think he helped. But, ultimately it is my decision. The choices I make are - the choices that I make.
As this year begins a new...it's a fresh start for all of us. It's amazing that we get to start new every morning.
Thank you for reading.... hug your Dad if he is still on this earth. He may not be perfect... but, he is YOUR Dad.
